


Cut Loose, Grow Scales

by Laura_Laplace



Series: Queen of Two Nations, Master of Neither [1]
Category: Fire Emblem: If | Fire Emblem: Fates
Genre: F/F, Ot3 au, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Plot on the margins, Pregnant Sex, Tail Sex, Transformation, might do more later
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-25
Updated: 2019-06-25
Packaged: 2020-05-19 12:17:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19356865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laura_Laplace/pseuds/Laura_Laplace
Summary: Corrin, Queen of Nohr and Hoshido both, has always held her dragon side apart from her pair of wives. But with her Nohrian bride Camilla pregnant, carrying their part-dragon child, she can no longer keep that aspect of herself secret. Particularly not when Camilla's interest in it turns decidedly lustful...





	Cut Loose, Grow Scales

**Author's Note:**

> Sometimes you wanna write specific porn so much you make an AU for it: in this case I might write additional stories to fill in the blanks later on. For now, enjoy my happily married Corrin x Camilla smut, and watch out for Hinoka to enter the fun later. Thanks to my beta readers, you know who you are.

‘I want to see it.’

‘Camilla! We can’t keep having this conversation, it’s too dangerous.’

The pair of them lay in the royal bed, the crux of two royal lines come together. There were more pillows accumulated in this one room than Corrin had ever seen in her life prior, her wife’s endless crusade to provide her spouse a maximal degree of comfort leading her to clad their shared quarters in softness everlasting.

If only that crusade would extend to Corrin’s draconic heritage…

‘Oh, I understand that you’re concerned, love,’ Camilla almost crooned, one palm against Corrin’s cheek to keep their eyes locked, preventing the silver-haired queen from looking away. ‘But I don’t think you quite get it, either. So let me explain it to you properly, one last time…’

Rising in a single, fluid motion, her body a curvy sculpture of shadows and warm orange in the bedside lamplight, Camilla rucked one leg up over her wife’s body and mounted her, straddling the young royal at the hips. The prominent swelling of Camilla’s belly bulged out above Corrin, taut, pale skin heavy and ripe. Long fingered hands stroked at this round shape in the gloom.

‘Fact the first, little sister:’ Camilla’s mouth curved into a gentle smile, watching Corrin be unable to look away from her wife’s body for long. The lilac-haired nymph had taken to going nude around their private quarters whenever they were alone, ever since, well… 

‘Thanks to that wonderful dragon parentage of yours, I am pregnant, and you are the… mother?’ Camilla’s brow furrowed. ‘Hmm. The nomenclature for what we have going on here needs some work, doesn’t it? At any rate, this is yours, Corrin. Chances are high that they will have some visible expression of your dragon blood, and we will have to deal with that. I can’t do that if my wife won’t let me see it before the birth.’

And here she cupped Corrin’s face and drew her upward, pressing her lips to her co-queen’s. Camilla’s tongue probed the inside of her mouth for a moment or two, Corrin shivering in her arms, before plopping the young woman back to the bed.

‘Fact the second: your dragon self is a part of you, and when we married, we promised to share. I want to partake in _all_ of you, Corrin. And I want you to feel free to share all of yourself with me. We’ve _both_ earned this, dear. This isn’t cutting loose destructively, it’s the two of us being honest with one another.’

Her fingers slid to the point of Corrin’s chin, forcing those half-dragon eyes to look into her own. The gaze that the daughter of Anankos met pierced her through with an all-encompassing understanding, a knowledge of Corrin’s inner workings that went beyond the normal. It held her pinioned for a moment. Camilla smiled, the edges of her mouth curved up like the sweetly sharpened edges of a loving, ruthlessly effective knife.

‘Third fact, sweet Corrin: I know how to handle dragons.’ All at once, Camilla’s mien turned soft once more, levity etching those soft features. ‘Oh you _do_ get so very cute when you’re scared, little sister!’

‘Who could be scared of you, Camilla?’ Corrin murmured, her wife’s lips brushing her own. It was, of course, the truth: despite the fervor with which Camilla went into battle, the wyvern she rode, the… every objectively scary thing about her, she was first and foremost Corrin’s sister. Blood or no, they knew each other; it was difficult to be even mildly fearful of a woman who took care of her with the intensity that Camilla cared for Corrin. 

But not being afraid _of_ Camilla did not preclude being afraid _for_ Camilla. The prospect of letting loose the dragon certainly achieved the latter.

Camilla, however, would evidently not be deterred. What could Corrin say that she had not said before? That she had never called on the dragon outside of a fight? That her dragonself was linked in her mind, inextricably, with combat and bloodshed? That the sheer _strength_ her draconic form possessed could, she feared, bring harm to Camilla unintentionally?

What could she say, that would not be deflected by Camilla’s unswerving faith in her?

And why was that faith not something that Corrin respected, or even shared?

‘I want to go slow,’ Corrin murmured, feeling her face blush and her fingers tremble against the small of her lover’s back in equal measure. Trepidation and lust did not commonly find a home together, but when one was married to Camilla they were more common bedfellows than one might think. 

‘Of course, my little dragon. Go at your own pace, I am sure that I can manage to be patient for you.’ Camilla’s expression was almost saintly, encouraging and devilish. ‘And surely if anyone knows how to reward you for being so good, it’s your big sister…’

She smirked, and Corrin looked deeply into her eyes, trying to lock onto the essential feelings she had for the pregnant, lilac-haired beauty. Perhaps it was possible to call upon the dragon through love and not just anger, so that it came not howling and ravening but in curiosity, gently for the first time. It had never failed to come when it was called, but Corrin had never had cause to call it- her, she supposed- like this before…

‘Come on, sweetness. I can see it in your eyes…’ Despite her newfound bulk, Camilla slid off of Corrin with easy grace, pressing her lips to her wife’s ear. ‘Let her out for me, like I know you want to… She’s so beautiful, just like her human form, and I already love her just as much. I’m just laying here ready to see how sensitive those scales are…’

And so it went, Camilla whispering hot little imprecations into Corrin’s ear as the half-dragon woman let her other half build in the pit of her stomach. It was a power, coiling and gathering in all the foundational places in her, rising like a tide. It was something that could, if Corrin was not careful, easily overtake her. The dragon was a part of her, but it had been a part of Anankos too, and that had not stopped it from violence completely independent from the desires of its human side.

No, even in the best case scenario, this would be a balancing act.

Camilla was beside her, though, soft and ripe and beautiful, and so when the dragon reached out to take a part of her body, Corrin let it. Scales bloomed in the palm of her hand, extended over the backs of her fingers like armored plates, and when her newly clawed talons touched her wife, the sensation was so very different to Corrin from the touch of human skin on skin. Possessed of its own wants and desires, the dragon’s fingers wrapped around Camilla’s thigh, pointed tips resting on the soft inside curve, just below her pussy. 

‘Oh my!’ Camilla gasped, uttered a little giggle. ‘Your dragon side is a little more forward, isn’t she?’

‘Sssssshe knows what she likes…’ Corrin tried her best to force her mouth around human words, though the dragon was already layering over her tongue and windpipe, wrenching a few syllables into a sussurrus growl. Camilla’s eyes grew wide to hear it, this bestial side of her wife coming out in such a personal setting. But this was what she wanted, and a spark of curiosity could undeniably be seen therein, turning her expression rapt instead of shocked. 

Her own hand slipped down between her legs to join the draconic claw, resting atop those hardened scales just to experience the texture. Every ounce of attention that Corrin possessed went down to that union between them, desperate to ensure that her claws did not move unduly, razor edges all too capable of harming the fascinated woman beside her. 

Camilla seemed drawn to those sharp edges, seeing in them not the knife-bladed destruction that Corrin saw, but a pointed font of sensation that was meant for pleasure, not pain. Her fingertips traced the curves without fear, and though Corrin’s heart raced to see it, her wife did not draw blood, managed to draw near her dragon-self without even the smallest of injuries.

Cupping Corrin’s face in her hand, Camilla brushed the hair from her eyes and spoke in gentle, deliberate, almost blunt tones.

‘You’re doing so well, my love. There’s no need to fight it, don’t hold it back. You won’t hurt me,’ she crooned. ‘Show me some more of these beautiful edges…’

Corrin could feel herself slipping, the dragon staking out more and more territory in her mind and body, and with Camilla’s encouragements ringing in their shared ears, she let herself go further. Her tongue thickened, teeth sharpening into fangs, hidden behind lips that hardened into a carapace, that featureless scaled shield behind which her mind would be hidden once the dragon had been fully released. Horns and antlers sprouted behind her head, coming up to form the complex headdress that would, very soon, make laying down as she was impossible. 

She could feel her wings, itching and stretching in the liminal space between her human self and her dragon form…

‘It’ssssss coming. Step back, Cammmilla….’ Speaking was a challenge now, Corrin’s mouth now shrinking away into the dragon’s alien, dislocated face. Her lungs were shifting inside her, growing and changing within a torso that grew longer and more slender, plating out in tesselating layers of gray and white armor. There really were wings, now, that forced Corrin over onto her front on the bed, hoping against hope that the rafters overhead were tall enough to contain them as they stretched out to their full height. 

Her tail slithered out of nowhere, growing from that sweet place between her legs and at the base of her spine, coming to coil around the headboard of the bed, tightening hard around it as Corrin struggled to maintain enough control not to roar, not to let the elemental waters of her draconic nature flow and spill out. The feral dragon ached to assert herself in this space, but Corrin would not allow it. 

There were others in the palace, after all. To let the wyrm scream would be to interrupt what Camilla wanted…

Her wife stood, barefoot and wide eyed on the carpeted floor of their room, watching with clear interest but (wonderfully, blessedly) no obvious fear. Her gaze alit on Corrin’s hands and feet, as her fingers and toes thickened and came together into her dragon form’s hooves, the final part of her new being to develop. The bed creaked beneath her, but did not break; still, Corrin carefully took her hooves off of it, standing astride the bed on all fours instead. 

‘Hello there,’ Camilla said in a hushed, wondering tone, walking toward the dragon with cautious steps. ‘I’ve been wanting to meet you for a long time…’

Aggressive instincts clanged within Corrin’s head, fierce iron bells tolling from the dragon side and echoing through her humanity. It was a genuine struggle not to fight them down, to leap atop the dragon’s in-born inclinations and attempt to wrestle them into submission, but Corrin knew that, like any cornered animal, doing so would just cause the dragon to fight back harder. 

Instead, Corrin placed her faith in Camilla and, just as importantly, in herself.

As her wife drew closer, the flowery scent of her perfume wafting into whatever smell receptors the dragon had instead of a nose, Corrin’s neck arched, as though wheeling away from potentially attacking. But the dragon recognized Camilla, did not resist as Corrin pulled their twinned form back; from the churning depths of that draconic consciousness came an emotion that Corrin could not have predicted.

Love.

The dragon, as distinct as it felt from Corrin herself, was still a part of her, a mind looking out from the other side of her mirror. She shared her heart with the creature, their emotions in overlap… Corrin’s love was the dragon’s love, in a real and lasting sense. Was it any surprise that Camilla, mother of their child, would evoke this kind of response?

All at once, Corrin knew that the danger was far less than she had feared. Still there- oh, always still there where the dragon was concerned- but no more the pure, animal aggression that she had been expecting. The dragon desired Camilla the same way that Corrin-as-human did, the feeling somewhat dislocated by the differences in physical form, but no less encompassing. And through the enhanced receptors of the dragon’s sense mechanisms…

Camilla burned there, her body’s every function a roiling path of light, of color, of sound. The heat of her, heightened by pregnancy and lust, radiated off of her in an aura of infrared light, waves of it washing in strange, Brownian patterns whenever she moved. Her eyes glowed, the matter therein reacting to some sense that Corrin did not have a name for. The chemicals in her hair, on her skin, the lotions and scents that came as a perk of being royalty, had their own prismatic sheen.

And in her abdomen, that manufactory of new life, a roiling overdrive of chemistry working constantly, lay a wonderful ember that glowed a deep red, a familiar red, a crimson that was deeply satisfying simply to look at. It was her own personal furnace, and even Corrin’s draconic heart sped up to see it. 

Corrin’s long neck dipped as Camilla drew close enough to touch her, allowing the human woman’s soft hands to cup the sharp, striated lines of her jaw. She was tentative, but clearly fearless with it, going slow only to reassure Corrin. Her fingers stroked long, tickling lines along scales more suited to fighting than caressing. 

‘Just let me know if I end up hurting you,’ Camilla said, her voice breathy and excited. ‘You don’t really have human facial features for me to go off of right now, and I don’t want to poke you in the eye, sweetness.’

Corrin growled, which was the closest that she could come to verbal communication in this form; she was prepared for the sound to frighten, for Camilla to flinch away and finally see the monster in front of her. But the light in her wife’s eyes only sparked anew, the sound of snarling atavistic in nature, hitting at some primal part of Camilla that set her to blushing. Taking Corrin’s face in both hands, she drew the dragon down further, her lips brushing that gray carapace.

‘Nice to meet you, my beautiful dragoness,’ she crooned, eyes hidden from Corrin’s sight by her generous lilac curls. ‘I wonder what sensitive spots you have now?’

It was rare that both Corrin and the dragon were in total agreement, but their confusion after that question was genuine and shared: where were they sensitive in this form? Humanity was easy by comparison; there were plenty of other examples of the human form to work with, and Camilla in particular had been more than eager to share what she knew of them with Corrin once they had married. But Silent Dragons? Who knew? 

Corrin could barely manage to hold onto the form she did have for more than a couple hours at a time without needing to recover, and she was the only one of her kind left. Which left her and her beloved in the interesting position of having to pioneer the field of dragon sexuality entirely on their own. 

Wouldn’t _that_ be fun?

Camilla padded her way around the bed, keeping one hand on Corrin wherever she went, fingers trailing along the ridges and inclines of that scaled body. Her touch was light, explorative, curious and gentle, sticking to the joins between armor plates, or places where the dragon was less covered, the skin beneath more exposed. She was looking, Corrin knew, for points of sensitivity, places where one might naturally assume she would like to be stroked; though never unpleasant, it was safe to say that Camilla had not yet found what she was looking for, given Corrin’s lack of reaction.

There was always between those slender thighs, of course… but that seemed too obvious, too much like jumping the gun, where it was more fun to tease and explore this new opportunity to its fullest. Camilla owed it to herself to make this memorable…

...After all, she wanted there to be a repeat performance, if possible. 

Instead, then, she went to the wings, reaching up on the tips of her toes to run her fingers along the rim of one long, gray sail. It was an arc of bone, where scales joined with skin and stretched taut as it ran down into the actual flight surface, and it twitched when Camilla reached the outer tip. The Nohrian queen smiled in delight at the sound that Corrin made, a metal coo that no human could replicate.

‘Ah, there we go… is that nice, dearest? Flap twice for yes…’

Corrin did not move her wings beyond the automatic twitching that her wife’s caress provoked, feeling a prideful need to reassert herself a little; she “spoke” instead in an alien sound that nevertheless communicated her assent. Settling back on her haunches, still a little awkward in sitting down with four legs that had the wrong joints, Corrin regarded her luminous wife with a feeling of bemusement that did not track across the featureless expanse of the dragon’s face. Camilla giggled.

‘Okay, Corrin, I get it. Point taken, you’re still in there.’ Nodding, she tweaked the tip of the dragon’s wing, sending a shiver running through Corrin’s hindquarters, plated scales shifting and opening up new avenues to the sensitive skin beneath. ‘And now we have a place to start. Oh how I’d like to climb up onto your back to test how sensitive your wings are, but, well…’

She gestured down to the swelling of her belly. It was true, she would not be clambering around very much for a while yet. But Corrin was nothing if not obliging, lowering herself further until the dragon’s chest lay upon the mattress. Folding her wings up against her hips, she tilted herself to one side, offering her strange new body to her wife. 

‘Such a good little dragon…’ Camilla cooed, acting as though Corrin were at the moment a tiny little wyrmlet, squirming in her lap, instead of an immense dragon that their bed was struggling to contain. Her probing fingers stroked against the larger plates at the base of Corrin's wings, finding further shivering points at the seams of that great gray armor. The flight membranes flapped open like immense striated curtains, the tips taut with enjoyment.

‘Ah, isn't that nice to see? I wonder if your supports are as sensitive…’

Reaching up with hooked fingers, Camilla stroked down the thin sails at the center of Corrin’s wing, causing autonomous twitches that were simple reflex, nothing more. The dragon’s head shook, it growled for her wife to move on.

‘No good?’ Narrowing her eyes, Camilla wheeled around, smiling. ‘Well, there’s always your tail…’

The dragon’s mind perked up within Corrin’s shared consciousness, swirling their tail around so that the leaf-like fronds at the tip batted against Camilla’s backside. The sensation that sparked there at the moment of impact was dull and transitory, but undeniably pleasant, and more than a little addictive. Immediately she understood the dragon’s eagerness.

‘Ooh, you like that idea?’ Camilla crooned, capturing her wife’s tail between one hand and the curve of her ass. Swaying her hips and pushing back against the spines there, she watched with avid eyes as Corrin shuddered and growled, sliding closer. To her, Camilla was a standing, feminine bonfire, still alight before her draconic senses and finally stoking some real pleasure in her, instead of the teasing that came with touching her wings. 

‘Well…’ The smile on Camilla’s face was more than warm, it was blistering, the temperature and sweetness of boiling honey. Her free hand drifted downward, over the swelling of her belly and between her legs, where together they guided the scaly tip of Corrin’s tail up to her dripping pussy. 

Dragons felt things more intensely than humans did, their magical bodies honed to take in sensations and spin them out to their fullest. Corrin’s tail twitched and flicked against her wife’s cunt, sending spasms of pleasure up through both of them, tensing the muscles in the dragon’s tail so that, after a while, it spanked up between Camilla’s legs automatically. 

Supple and flexible, Corrin’s tail wrapped about Camilla’s thigh, fins folding to rest against the heat of her pussy. The Nohrian queen pulled her lover’s draconic face toward her, leaning together forehead to forehead as she began to grind against the fronds, one at a time. Exhaling unsteadily through her mouth, she watched the shudder pulse through her dragon wife from one end to the other, a tremor that began in her tail as it slid along the lips of Camilla’s pussy, all the way up to her neck. 

‘Who would have thought, Corrin sweetie? True Dragons have tail clits.’ Camilla panted, swollen breasts pressed to Corrin’s carapace. ‘I suppose it makes sense, having a sensitive balance and guidance apparatus. All the better for us, hmm?’

It would have been easy enough, though strange, Camilla supposed, to end up fucking the tail. The spines extending from the tip would be comfortable enough for penetration, the chitin there supple and surprisingly soft, perfect for the stroking, rubbing touch of her labia to it. But something in that felt wrong, less natural than the slow, swaying grind she was doing on it now. Heat, partly friction, partly arousal, rose through the spines from the base, bringing with it a restless wagging that was deeply adorable. 

Back arched, curvy body rubbing against the strange, hardened inclines of her dragon, Camilla masturbated herself on Corrin’s tail, watching closely for the unfamiliar refractions of pleasure that this constituted for the dragon. Corrin’s limbs tensed, her claws digging into the sheets in ways that Camilla was sure would cause some tearing, her tail a slithering serpent between Camilla’s legs that she was alternately riding and being borne near aloft by. 

With the dragon’s strength, pulling Camilla up was barely an exertion at all, and Corrin had to restrain herself from raising the pregnant woman higher still, knowing at every moment that it was entirely possible. If she was so inclined, Corrin could have coiled herself around her wife and drawn the writhing, glowing figure up and in any direction she wanted. Even as in control as she felt, the dragon still had strength enough to ruin Corrin’s life with one misplaced claw. 

Only those few things the dragon focused on held all that strength in check; love, and the new draconic life that was the result of that love.

‘Look at me, honey.’ Still furiously riding her tail, Camilla cupped the dislocated prongs of a jaw that Corrin now possessed, pulling her faceless, sensing head away from the curves of her body and toward the lilac pools of her eyes. Even without eyes of her own, Camilla had begun to recognize when Corrin’s gaze started to wander. 

Oh yes, even in a completely different form, she was still her Corrin.

Deftly, she looped Corrin’s tail further between her legs, sliding the shaft between the cheeks of her ass with a smirk. Her hands closed around the foremost spines at the tip, positioning the rear ones against her pussy and between her squeezing thighs. Stroking, trailing her fingers up and down that forward ridge, she ground down hard on the rear one, the lips of her cunt spreading around its sensitive mass. 

Corrin hissed, the sound serpentine and lovely. It was not possible for the faceplate of a dragon to blush, but Camilla could feel the heat of rushing blood into it all the same. Her fingers slipped below Corrin’s chin, seeking out a place on instinct that was sensitive on her human form, and which Camilla knew would remain so in her draconic form. 

‘I don’t know if dragons can cum, but if you can, you’d better believe I’m going to make you, little sister…’ Harder, faster, Camilla rode the dragon’s tail, bearing down on it with every lush curve, watching with delight as Corrin’s wings spread wide, expanding nearly to fill the bedchamber and bringing with it a clenching of claws that tore rents into the sheets. Maybe dragons could not cum, but Corrin certainly could, Camilla had made more than sure of that, and her current form would not change the way she reacted to her wife’s skilled touch. 

What were biological imperatives, in the face of familial love? 

‘Come on, Corrin. Even with a different face you can’t hide from me,’ Camilla spoke in breathless, bobbing tones, rising and falling to the beat of her own endless grinding. ‘Come for me, baby. Show me what it looks like when you’re my slutty little wyrm…’

There were no more words. There couldn’t be; Camilla lost herself in heated, panting bliss soon afterwards, her body awash with hormones and her mind afire with just how accommodating her wife had turned out to be for her. Most other spouses, she reflected, in the dim space of her mind that was not consumed by passion, did not change forms for their wives. It was a rare paramour indeed that would shed their humanity upon request, and lay upon their marital bed with wings spread and armored limbs taut, as though intending to take flight at any moment. 

No, what they were doing was a special something, just for the two of them.

And with that intimacy, that sense of the unique, came an equal sense of building within Corrin, an incipience so very different from a normal, human orgasm. The fibers of her being, altered on a fundamental level, carried signals that no human could reproduce around a body that was only nominally hers. What was going to happen to her was going to be big, and loud, and messy.

… And Corrin was long past caring if anyone noticed that.

So she let her wings widen to their full extent, heedless of the way they bumped the rafters, as her wife rubbed her pussy along the sensitive splines of Corrin’s tail. Pleasure raced up her draconic spine, sliding the length of her tail like lightning before earthing itself in the strange structures of her hips. She could feel it, for reasons she didn’t at all understand, along the bottom ridges of her wings, the membranes between her claws, at the base of her antlers. Sensation and arousal collected in odd places, little eddies of ecstasy that built and connected in a constant tide, all stemming from Camilla’s dripping cunt pressed into her tail. 

A rivulet of her juices ran down that spine in a thin line, sliding along the smooth surface on a journey made chaotic by the increasingly forceful grinding. Corrin could feel every sticky inch of it, rendered in stunning detail with her dragon’s senses, and when it reached the base of the spine, ran into the cleft between it and the tip of her tail, she exploded.

It happened with a suddenness that shocked even Corrin herself, the rippling pulse of draconic orgasm that instantly triggered her body to overdrive. Her wings twitched and swung backwards, arching upward to the creaking tunes of the rafters they pressed against, a sound drowned out by the bellowing roar of pleasure that followed. The bestial sound echoed against the warm stone, actually pushed back Camilla’s hair as she continued to ride, bucking down just as hard as Corrin’s tail bucked beneath her. 

The Nohrian queen began to come too, her own climax intense but seemingly tiny beneath the sheer aural din of Corrin’s dragongasm. 

Claws clenched, mandibles sparked with magical energy, and as Camilla tipped her head back in ecstasy, Corrin felt the change come back upon her, pleasure-clad and hungry. Making sure that Camilla’s feet were firmly on the ground, that she would not stumble or fall, Corrin launched eagerly into it, let the changing of her shape come at the height of her climax. Waves of sensation rose and fell, and at their apex her humanity came back in clenches and moans, cunt first and aching for more. 

For a time, a span of lovely seconds, the human seats of her pleasure and the dragon ones coexisted, womanly pussy swollen and needy, pert breasts tipped with hard nipples atop a chest of gray scales, tail coiling about Camilla even as it began to fade. The Two Kingdom Queen attained her human form still coming, shuddering in the throes of a climax that had yet to release her. 

Weak-kneed from the change, she fell not to the bed, but the carpeted floor below, her toes curling and breath coming in the harshest of pants, as close to draconic growling as a human throat could get. Guttering embers of the changelight that had followed her reversion floated freely, fading out as Corrin came and Camilla bit her lip and fondled one heavy breast. 

Aftershocks of climax were still racing through Corrin’s prone form when the door slammed open, a familiar figure shadowed in the lamplight. Other shadows lurked just beyond, suggesting that the sound of a dragon’s orgasm carried farther than they might have anticipated.

‘My Queens, are you alright?!’ Flora shouted, the scene before her not fully registering until halfway through the next sentence. ‘We heard the most awful- oh.’

‘Oh, Flora honey, we’re sorry,’ Camilla reclined back against the bed, comfortable in her nudity even as Corrin, far more disadvantaged, scrabbled to her knees and hid as much of her own lithe form as was possible behind the frame. ‘We got a little carried away. I hope we didn’t wake the whole castle…’

Her tone suggested that, at the very least, she would be okay with that. Her steady, bemused gaze said that, quite the opposite, Camilla would enjoy that immensely. Flora, blushing a furious crimson, gabbled an apology that came out all too fast and shut the door quickly behind her. 

At the foot of the bed, naked, pale, and thin, Corrin squeaked in embarrassment and buried her face in the mattress. The Queen of Two Nations, once-proud and unrepentant dragon that had shrieked her wyrm-pleasure to the rafters mere moments ago, had gone a deep, fetching shade of red. 

Sniggering to herself, Camilla lay back, began playing with her squirming love’s hair. The night was still young…

… And perhaps there were a few people they hadn’t managed to rouse yet…  
***


End file.
